


A Fighting Chance

by OpalSpirit



Category: Loki - Fandom, Marvel, Pompeii (2014), Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: ANGSSSTTTTT, Ancient Rome, Archaeology, Asgard (Marvel), Avengers never met Loki, Avengers on Vacation, Celtic tribal tattoos, Drinking, Eventual Romance, F/M, Gladiators, Hurt/Comfort, Inspired by the events of 79 AD, Loki in a toga, Miðgarðr | Midgard, Mt Vesuvius eruption, Pompeii, Reader is first female gladiator, Slavery, Slow Burn, Thor is a Good Bro (Marvel), Ultron brought the Avengers together in this AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:21:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28497495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalSpirit/pseuds/OpalSpirit
Summary: "Forever," he whispered, holding her impossibly closer as their world crumbled around them.She bowed her head, resting it upon his shoulder, the hot wind tossed her hair in all directions and stung her bruised and lacerated skin. Then she wept. She wept until the tears refused to fall.
Relationships: Loki/Reader
Kudos: 26





	1. Discovery

~ Naples, Italy 2021 ~

The cold left them as they stepped into the museum. Shedding their coats and slinging them over their arms, the Avengers followed Tony as they began to explore. Peter instantly tore off in one direction with Shuri hot on his heels. 

The morning had been spent at the ruins of a city not far from Naples. It had been a haunting experience for some, emotional for others. All save for Thor knew the tragic tale of Pompeii and Peter was all too happy to step in and regale the god with what had happened over a millenia ago.

This whole trip had been Tony's idea. He had decided to take the team on a vacation through Europe after he announced that every single one of them deserved it, especially after the year they had just had.

The museum was unlike anything Thor had ever seen. There were a number of different exhibits, each showcasing a different aspect of the country's history. He smiled faintly as he caught sight of a scroll lying beneath a sheet of glass. Loki would have adored this. He was always the more curious one of the two of them. He would travel for months at a time throughout the realms simply to learn of different cultures and traditions. His smile became sad as he recalled his younger sibling. It had been so long since anyone had lain eyes on him and all but Thor and Frigga had given up on ever seeing him again.

Shaking his head, Thor moved onto the next display. It wasn't long before Steve and Bucky joined him. "Everything all right?" Steve asked, looking sideways at his teammate.

Thor nodded. "Indeed, Captain," he smiled for good measure.

Even though it seemed that Steve didn't buy it, he said nothing further on the matter. He had seen it. The barely hidden grief had surprised him, as had the smile that had trembled at the edges.

Together, the trio wondered through the museum, making sure to keep the others in sight.

Staring at the plaster cast before her, Natasha let her mind wonder back to the ruins they had toured through earlier that day. More than once she had found herself glancing up at the mountain. It was almost too easy to imagine the hellish nature of a volcano eruption.

"You okay, Nat?" Clint asked softly. He had seen one of her hands reach out and brush up against the glass.

"They must have been so scared," she replied in a whisper, eyes fixed on the human form before her. "I can't even imagine being that scared."

Clint hummed softly in agreement. This particular stop on their trip had brought emotions out of those that often did all they could not to show them. Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed gently. "Well, let's hope you never have to be."

Resting her head on her friend's shoulder, Natasha let her hand drop. Nodding, she closed her eyes for a moment before stepping away from the case and meeting Clint's gaze. "Let's see what else they have."

Grinning, he nodded and took her offered hand.

Shaking her head in fond exasperation, Wanda meandered through the museum at her own pace while her twin had decided that he needed to see everything at once. More than once he had sped past her, ruffling her hair as he passed by.

Tilting her head back, she admired the arches and domes of the ceiling. It had been far too long since she had done anything like this. There had been little in the way of art in their home town.

Despite his innate love for the field of science, Peter couldn't deny the thrill of being surrounded by so much history. What he had learned at school was now right in front of him. With Shuri beside him, he wondered to the part of the museum where most of the plaster casts were displayed. There were some that lay in groups, while others were displayed alone.

"This is incredible," he breathed, looking everywhere at once. "I mean seriously."

"I agree," Shuri replied, her neck twisting and turning as she took everything in. "I am glad I decided to come."

Peter smirked. "So am I."

When he was met with silence, he looked beside him and saw that Shuri was looking at something across from them. Following her gaze, Peter saw a statue. Like the others, it was cased in glass with a plaque attached. Without fully realising what was happening, he moved towards it and stopped a short distance away. This one was different to the others. This one was upright and bore more details than any of the others.

"How sad," Shuri murmured beside him.

Upon closer inspection, Peter saw the reason for her words. The statue was not of one person, but two. He said nothing as he examined it. It was clearly a man and a woman embracing, their lips touching in a final kiss. The man's clothing suggested he was someone of status, a snake bracelet could clearly be seen wrapped around his left bicep. The woman looked to be someone of a lower class.

"They are the only ones whose clothing and hair remained intact," said another voice, startling both Peter and Shuri. Spinning to face the newcomer, they came face to face with a young woman. Her smile was friendly and her eyes were kind as she regarded them. Extending a hand, she introduced herself, "Adara Kirsi, the archeologist who found them."

"You found them?" Peter asked, stepping forward and shaking her hand.

Adara nodded and looked to the statue, a soft sadness entered her hazel eyes. "About ten years ago now, so fairly recent in the scheme of things."

"Where were they?" Shuri asked, sidling up to Peter. "Were they with the others?"

Adara shook her head. "No. They were quite separate and far away. Hence why no one found them sooner. I shall never forget the day I came upon them," a sad smile graced her tanned features. "Up by the cliffs that overlooked the city. I had gone for a walk to clear my head when I stumbled across them." A faraway look entered her eyes, when mixed with the sadness that lingered there, she looked almost a little haunted. "We do not know who they were, their names are lost to history."

"I want a love like that," Peter said suddenly, his eyes trained on the statue.

Adara and Shuri looked to Peter in surprise. Yet it was Adara that spoke first, "without the tragic ending, I hope?" She asked softly. "All we know of them is that they loved each other more than life."

Peter nodded, but before he could say anything in reply, Tony joined them. "What's this I hear?" He asked, a grin beginning to form.

"Look, Mr.Stark," Peter said, pointing to the statue. "They are the only ones with hair and clothing and they were found quite recently too."

"Is that so?" Tony muttered and peered closer, shaking his head in wonder. "Incredible. Hey guys!" He called out, gathering the team together. "Check this one out."

Within moments the entire team had gathered and listened as Peter, with the help of Adara, explained what they were all looking at.

"Do we know why they are the only ones where everything didn't get burnt off?" Clint asked.

Adara shook her head. "Unfortunately not. It has eluded many of the more experienced members of my field. If you look closely, you can even see their eyelashes and the detailing on their clothing. Despite this ongoing mystery, we are able to confidently say that this woman, whoever she is, was the only female gladiator in the Roman world at the time."

"And the man?"

"An aristocrat," she replied. "A nobleman most likely."

As the team once again began to disperse, Thor stayed behind and approached the case. His heart clenched painfully as he took in the sight. He knew those features well. "Seidr," he whispered, a tear slipping free.

"What makes you say that?" Tony asked, he had been making to leave when he heard him. "What is it?"

"Magic," Thor replied, his attention never wavering from the frozen couple.

"Magic?" Tony repeated, "why do you think it has anything to do with that?"

"Because that man," Thor said, "I know who he is." 

Startled by the light tremble in his friend's voice, Tony took a moment before speaking again, this time in a softer voice. "Who is it?"

"My brother," Thor whispered, more tears slipping free. "My younger brother, Loki. He was well versed in the ways of sorcery."

"Your brother?" Tony breathed, astounded. "I did not know you had one."

"He disappeared some time ago," Thor explained. "He did not tell anyone where he was headed, not even our mother. We searched everywhere but were unable to locate him." Pausing, Thor took a breath that shuddered on its way out, he swiped the tears away before speaking again. "Until now."

"So he could've gotten himself out of there?" Tony asked, looking at the statue. "Her as well?"

Thor sighed and shook his head. "The heat would have weakened him, no doubt. He was always more sensitive to the warmer weather than most and seidr takes no small amount of energy to wield. Energy he would not have had."

"I am sorry, Thor," Tony murmured, laying a comforting hand on Thor's shoulder. "Really I am. Even if I did not know your brother."

Thor simply nodded, barely noticing it when Tony left. Who was this woman that Loki had been willing to risk his life for? She was a gladiator, a slave. "You loved her, didn't you?" He said softly. "Loved her more than your own life." Unbidden, more tears came. "You fool," he said without meaning it, but the pain in his heart was too great. "For centuries we searched for you. How am I to tell mother of this?"

No answer came.

No answer would ever come and Thor knew but one thing. He would bring his brother home, one way or another.


	2. The games

~ Rome, Italy 78 AD ~

"My daggers against your sword is not a fair fight. I'll try to be gentle."

Her opponent grunted, thus giving her the only warning of the swing aimed for her head.

Ducking, she narrowly missed and struck back with a flurry of attacks. They had presented her with a pair of wooden training daggers that morning while many of her fellow gladiators had been given the training variants of swords or spears.

The sun bit at the exposed skin of her arms and legs, the skin there had long since browned from long hours spent in the sun. Roman summers were her least favourite season and made her long for the relative cool of her native Britannia.

A sharp pain to her thigh cut off her thoughts and brought her crashing back to the present. Just in time too, abandoning her daggers, she rushed her opponent. The man was twice her height and built like a mountain. Nothing unusual really, as there was no one there that matched her height. The man hardly moved and wrapped his arms around her waist to crush her against him.

Swinging her right leg around, she hooked it around his thigh and rammed her shoulder in as far as she could.

Those watching had stopped talking quietly amongst themselves. She had never resulted to brute force before, her use of weapons, in particular the twin shortswords and the whip, had won her notoriety and her transfer to Rome. Her freedom now lay in the hands of the Emperor himself. Caesar Vespasianus Augustus.

Those training around them saw as the pair fell to the sand with her on top. Having swung her left leg around just in time to avoid getting it pinned, she now had it pressed against her opponent's windpipe. The pressure she was able to apply was enough to weaken any attempts to shake her off.

"Yield?" She hissed, breathing heavily as she met his gaze head on. When no response came, she leaned down, thus bringing most of her weight to bear on her left leg. "Yield?"

A victorious grin split her features when a throaty rasp answered her. "Yield."

Easing off, she leaned back, her grin softening.

"You are improving," her opponent remarked, smirking up at her.

Slipping onto the sand, she laughed and held out a hand for him to take. "I should hope so, Brutus," never had a man been so aptly named. "It is why I am here, alive and well."

"You are here because the Emperor has wished it so."

Her eyes rolled as she retrieved her daggers. "The Emperor does not even know my name. Only what the people have taken to calling me. I am simply another oddity he wishes to show his people. A savage he believes to be tamed."

Sighing, Brutus collected his sword from where it had fallen in the warm sand. Her words rang true for all of them. She was simply the newest arrival, not to say the only woman among them.

"Come," he said softly and gestured for her to follow him. All around them the gladiators were being herded to the levels below the infamous Colosseum. The games would begin the next day and could quite possibly be the last day of so many lives.

Wordlessly she followed him. Brutus was the closest to a friend she had in this dreadful place. Even after nine years fighting for the entertainment of others and her own hope of freedom, she had never once allowed herself to fully befriend another. Being separated from her family and people was heart rending enough.

Their quarters, if they could be named as such, resembled cells more than actual chambers. She considered herself lucky in this regard only, there were but two to her cell. Herself and Brutus. The others housed easily ten men.

The moment the doors shut behind them and the locks were secured in place, she sank to the floor and leaned her head against the wall. With her braid slung over her shoulder, she closed her eyes and let out a weary sigh.

"Snatch what rest you can," Brutus advised her from his corner of the cell. "The games begin on the morrow and we are the first act."

The games. The accursed games. Rumor had it that they were to last a full month, at the very least. Each time she believed it to be her last, yet even with those from which she emerged victorious did not grant her the freedom she longed for and was rightly owed.

Everyone knew the rules. The one that lived, and therefore won, earned their freedom. The Romans had seen fit to subvert their own rules to keep her as a shackled and unwilling participant. She was not the only one however. Brutus was much the same, as well as countless others. No matter how many fights they won or how many of their opponents they killed, they were not released.

Reaching beneath the leather of her attire, she felt for the telltale shape of her pendant. So far she had managed to keep it hidden, even though she knew it would only be a matter of time before the Romans discovered it. It was the last thing of home she had and brought her a small measure of comfort.

The cold stone dug into her back, right between her shoulders. No matter how much she tossed and turned on the dank hay that served as her bed, sleep would not come.

Morning came much too quickly and with it, the loud obnoxious ringing of the cell bars being hit with clubs to wake herself and her fellow slaves. The soldiers and those that trained them were fond of such methods, she however, was not and growled low in her throat.

Pulling her hair free of the braid of the previous day, she set to combing it as best she could with the broken comb she had pilfered some years ago. The teeth caught and snagged in her hair, pulling more from the roots than actually making it presentable. Nevertheless, it was the best she had and she wasn't about to complain. Complaining would only get her the lash.

Wrestling the long strands into a coherent braid, she slung it behind her where it settled against her back and brushed against the back of her knees. Short hair meant servitude, at least that is what it had been like at home. Now she grew her hair in silent rebellion to those that had stolen her from her homeland. More than once the soldiers had threatened to cut it off, yet it was her skill with the whip that kept even them at bay.

Ensuring her sandals were securely strapped around her calves and ankles, she stood straight and double checked the buckles and straps to the black leather [outfit](https://www.pinterest.com.au/pin/435864070188962779/) she now wore. The skirt was similar to what she had seen some of the men wear, only hers stopped midway up the thighs. Unlike her male companions, she wore no armour, no metal to cover her arms and legs.

The moment she stepped from the cell, Brutus right beside her, she was tossed her whip. Catching it midair, she curled her hand around it and ran her thumb over the braided leather.

"No blades today?" One of the other gladiators called to her.

Shaking her head, she answered him. "It would seem not." Unlike her fellow gladiators, she wore no helmet, only kohl to protect her eyes from glare of the sun on the sand.

In no time at all, they were being directed to their entrance to the arena. Already the eager and overexcited voices of the amassed crowd could be heard. Their thirst for blood and violence never failed to disgust her, she may have grown up around warriors, but senseless violence was frowned upon. 

The rumbling of the opening gate drew her attention forwards. The familiar fear curled in her stomach as she marched towards the opening. The familiar defiance flared up in her heart. Soon the sun caused her to squint her eyes as she stepped out onto the sand. Already the small grains had found their way into her sandals, making her cringe and suppress a groan. 

The bloodthirsty crowd thundered around them as they came to a halt before the Emperor's pavilion. She held no love for the man. Arrayed in sumptuous purples and brilliant whites trimmed in gold, she hated him. She loathed him as she raised her right arm and the hand that held the whip. Beside her, the other gladiators did the same. Together they spoke loud enough for him and the whole Colosseum to hear.

"Ave Caesar morituri te salutant!"

She hated the words almost as much as she hated the man himself. She knew better than to openly defy, the last time she had done so she had earned herself a hearty one hundred lashes with her own whip. Her back had taken more than a month to heal.

Swallowing past her burning hatred, she spoke the next words. It was an oath all gladiators swore and one she knew by heart. Their words it seemed, had the whole Colosseum rapt. "I will endure to be burned, to be bound, to be beaten, and to be killed by the sword." The words echoed long after they had finished speaking them. All watched in silence as the gladiators were marched away, only to cheer again when the first pair of fighters emerged.

In the shadows she waited, grateful beyond measure that she had not been called first. Her opponent was not yet determined and she could only pray that it would not be Brutus. To stand against him would shatter what was left of her heart. Her heart that was already so fragile.

Hidden she watched as the defeated was brought in on a stretcher, his blood dripping to the stone beneath. How many times had she imagined herself to be one of them, eternally released from the torments of Rome.

The harsh call of her name pulled her from her thoughts and back to the hellish present. Making her way to the entrance once more, she breathed a sigh of relief when it was not Brutus that waited for her there. She knew not who he was, his face hidden from her beneath a helmet. Quickly she glanced at his weapon of choice and fought a second groan. A trident and a net. Against her whip, it would be an interesting fight indeed.

As the gate creaked open, the pair stepped forward onto the sand and were greeted with cheers and chants for the names the crowd had given them. Amid the blood rushing in her ears and her heart thundering in her chest, she heard it. She heard the name the Roman people had given her.

"Domina saeva! Domina saeva!" Chanted over and over again.

She knew what it meant and smiled grimly as she stood opposite her opponent. Perhaps this time she would be lucky and earn her freedom. Letting the whip unfurl onto the sand below, she awaited his strike. When it came, she was ready. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The greeting of the gladiators to the Emperor: "Hail, Emperor, those who are about to die salute you!"


End file.
